Pony Up
by Kyonomiko
Summary: She's an easy target and she knows it, the victim of various holiday tricks, bets, and wagers. This year, however, Draco Malfoy is the one knocking on Hermione Granger's door, and the old adage "pony up" takes on a new and rather literal meaning. M for language


**Hi there :) Happy Halloween, everyone! Still don't own Harry Potter but hopefully by tonight I will have a basket full of candy!.. errr, my kids will. And I'm sure I won't take any...**

 **This was written for the Strictly Dramione FB group Halloween fest!**

 **Eternal treats and never tricks to LightofEvolution and In Dreams for beta and alpha fabulousness. Also thanks to MHCalamas for making me an aesthetic! Heart all of you ladies.**

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Hermione Granger hates Halloween.

It's worth mentioning, that wasn't always the case. Like any youth, she had enjoyed it as a muggle. Dressing up as some historical character and politely asking her neighbors for sweets was all well and good. She never went in for the ghosts and goblins variety of costumes (she was more of a Mary Queen of Scots type child. One year, feeling rebellious, she was Zorro) nor had she participated in the pranks and revelry of her peers. But that doesn't mean she didn't like the holiday all the same, the pageantry and candy rewards.

But that feels like a lifetime ago, a war somewhere in the way. Now, the Halloween season means long days at the Ministry. It means Samhain rituals gone awry, magical creatures imbibing wizarding and muggle treats that don't agree with them, and, her most favorite (read: sarcasm), the jokes played on her department.

Hermione is the lead liaison at the office of Magical Creatures, sub department Multifaceted Beings. That is to say, Werewolves, Veela, Animagi, Selkies, and any other creature that can morph from one form into another. It has long been a point of contention if Animagi should be included, as it is a voluntary skill rather than a born trait. At this point, however, they are still under her jurisdiction.

The first year in the department, she was a fresh-faced twenty year old, ready to make a difference. She'd still been romantically involved with Ron Weasley at the time as well. At six in the evening, just as she was about to leave for the day, Seamus Finnegan had lumbered in, looking quite put out. He was also sporting a set of angelic wings and what seemed to be self-inflicted scratch wounds. His eyes were dark and his hands had morphed into claws. A Veela, he'd claimed. Somewhere far back in his ancestry, he had theorized, there must be Veela blood. It was only after she set the proper paperwork in motion, cooing at him to be calm, and that she would take care of him, getting him help to acclimate, had he burst into shrieking laughter. Ron had followed into the room at that point, laughing and telling Hermione she "should have seen" her face.

They didn't date long after that, she and Ron.

Unfortunately, that was not the last time she dealt with inappropriate pranks. Her second year, a wizard she didn't know had charmed some fur on himself, some rather convincing false teeth, and claimed to have been infected by a werewolf. She had taken solace that the joke wasn't only on her, but the entire department. That didn't stop her from having to clean up the bureaucratic mess of paperwork. The wizard in question, for his trouble, was slapped with a month confinement with the Aurors.

The years since were more of the same. Last year, Hermione's seventh in the department, Neville had shown up, wrapped up in a plant that appeared to be half consuming his lower half. It was incredibly well done, but Neville was never adept at false hoods. She had seen through the ruse and sent him on his way to the Ministry costume party (where he took first place). She actually thought she was pretty good-natured about it, considering it was just another example of her friends having very little respect for her career.

And so, she made a decision this Halloween that she would simply leave her office early. She's in charge, after all, and she rarely takes personal time. So at four that afternoon, before her friends generally make their annual visits, she is packing up her satchel and cleaning up the piles of parchments on her desk just about the time she hears a ruckus outside her office door.

"Sir, if you could please just-"

"Remove your hands from my person! I will not ' _just'_ ; I demand to see your department head!"

"As I've said, you really need an appointment-"

"If you can't tell, my situation is rather urgent."

"Sir, if we could take a seat-"

"I'll move you physically if I have to, but I am _going_ to see your supervisor!"

Oh, Merlin. Hermione knows that voice. Haughty and pompous and entitled wrapped up in very fine diction. She takes a cleansing breath just as her door slams open, the reverberation of the wood hitting the wall seeming to shake the very floor.

"Miss Granger, I'm so sorry." Hermione's assistant is standing outside of the room, wringing his hands nervously. Trevor is a nice wizard, but, at roughly 45 kilos soaking wet and barely out of Hogwarts, he's not exactly going to keep anyone from entering that puts their mind to it.

However, she can't really look at Trevor right now. In front of him, standing in the doorway, is a horse. More specifically, a large, white horse with the head and torso of a very agitated looking Draco Malfoy. His crisp button-down is hanging open over the muscular thighs of his lower form, and his black tie with subtle textured pattern is askew. He's breathing a little heavy, and he stomps one front hoof on the ground.

"Malfoy?"

"Granger! Fix this!"

Ah. She sees what's happening here. She knew Draco had becoming friendlier with Harry and Ron over at the Auror Department, but she never imagined they'd rope him in to something like this.

She dismisses her assistant with a long-suffering sigh. "Go on, Trevor. I've got it from here."

Seeming not to be able to leave fast enough, her assistant disappears. Malfoy takes that moment to walk through the door, head bowed to avoid the frame, and awkwardly turns in place to shut it behind him. He seems to be having trouble navigating his rather large backside, and Hermione can't help it when she snickers at him.

"Oh, yes, this is just hysterical, isn't it?"

"I must admit, it's one of the better ones I've seen."

Draco folds his arms over his human chest and glares down at her. "That is just completely unprofessional, Granger. I don't think anyone would appreciate how you belittle your clients."

Hermione rolls her eyes as she steps just to the side, getting a better look at Draco's centaur costume. She must say, he looks incredibly life like. Taking in just how... ahem... _detailed_ he managed to make the costume, she mutters, "Well, Malfoy, I must say, the rumour always was you're hung like a horse."

"What the fuck!" He gasps at her, all sincere offense. She looks up to find him blushing and awkwardly moving his hands to hide himself (which is useless since he can't even reach his own 'package'), and it makes her giggle.

"Come on, you can't think you're fooling anyone. I've been at this too long. Besides, you picked a ridiculous creature. It's not like you can get bitten by a Centaur and become one."

"Centaur…? Salazar's Rod, Granger, I'm not a bleeding centaur!"

"Obviously," she drawls, sounding a bit like their old potions professor. "Though, you might take first place tonight. I myself never attend, but judging from last year, you're every bit as convincing as Neville's plant."

She watches as he pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "Granger," he starts with false calm. "I don't know what the ever-loving fuck you're talking about. What I _know_ is, they told me if I had any trouble with my transformation, to go through the proper channels. I have," he slaps his horse legs to punctuate, "trouble with my transformation and _you,_ you ridiculous swot, are the proper channels!"

She levels him with a look. "Did no one who put you up to this explain that I haven't been fooled for at least four years now? Was it Harry? I always suspected he was the brains behind the whole thing. No way Ron or Neville or bloody Dennis Creevey came up with any of these on their own."

"I can't imagine what you think Potter has to do with this, but I assure you he's the last wizard I would have consulted with my animagus license."

She blinks. "Your license?"

"That's what I said isn't it," he sneers back. "So, again, Agent Kowalski said your department handles issues with transformation." He finally breaks eye contact, running his hand through his platinum locks, leaving him looking ruffled and even more stressed than before. "I don't understand it. I did everything right. I've already transformed once to get the license, then I finally try it at home and this is the result. Is this even possible? Surely there's a precedent for this type of thing that your department is familiar with."

She's just staring at him now, agape. Hermione, if she had the faculties to think about it, would know she looks like a fish, big eyes and open mouth.

"Are you listening?!"

"What? Oh! Of course! Merlin, Malfoy, are you serious? You're an animagus?"

"Yes," he clips out. "Since Monday."

"Of a Centaur?"

He grinds his teeth at her. "No, I'm a charger. Or, I was meant to be. My battle armour was custom made in Italy."

She snickers again before she can help it. This time, she'd admit, it's completely unprofessional, but he's just hilarious. Standing there so proud of his expensive Halloween costume idea while swishing his tail back and forth in agitation. He's probably not even aware he's doing it, and that makes it even funnier.

"So your first time transforming was for the purpose of the Ministry costume party?"

He scoffs at her, loud and dramatic. "Of _course not_ , Granger, that's ridiculous."

"I should say s-"

"It was for Theo's Samhain festival at Nott manor," he interrupts with far too much dignity, considering.

"Right. That's much more reasonable," she mutters.

"Look, my personal and social engagements are neither here nor there," he says, cagey and dismissive. "Do your job, Granger. How do I finish the change?"

Hermione screws up her mouth, not appreciating Draco Malfoy barking orders at her. Unfortunately, he's correct. As a multi-faceted Being, he falls snugly into her wheelhouse.

Setting a charmed quill to record the conversation, she starts a barrage of questions to ascertain the events leading up to his barging into her office. It all sounds very standard until he reaches a certain point.

"Wait, go back. Your wand flash was orange."

"Well, a red-orange, really. Almost a red… Maybe I didn't look properly…"

"Let me see your wand," she demands, hand already out expectantly. It takes very little inspection to detect that a foreign charm has been placed, rendering all spells cast temporarily defective. "It's been tampered with."

"What?! Let me see that!" Malfoy snatches it back and looks it over. "That utter bastard! I'll kill him. That's it, there's nothing else for it," he continues, tone deceptively light. "I just have to murder him. There must be some slow, torturous way I can dream up…"

"Who?"

"Nott. Fucking _Theo_. He was so fucking jealous I was going to upstage his stupid merperson costume, but I can't believe he would stoop to this! You do _not_ touch another man's wand."

"Unless you're into that," she says offhandedly, running tests with her own wand over his person.

"Ha ha, Granger." There is a beat in which neither speaks before he prompts, "Well?"

"Well?"

"Well, get on with it! I have a pressing need to go pound Theo's face in with my very impressive hooves."

"Granger! Have you seen- Oh, fuck." Hermione and Draco both look towards the voice coming from her doorway.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Hermione thinks.

"Theo," Malfoy greets him with false friendliness. "Just the wizard I was hoping to see. Stand still so I can kick you in the bollocks."

Nott throws up his hands in defense. "I'm sorry! Look, mate, it was just a gag. I didn't think you'd leave the bloody manor like this."

Hermione can tell that Theo, who she knows little more than casually, is trying to hide the fact that he is quite bemused.

"Oh, so you thought I would just stay in, miss the entire party? Fuck you very much, Nott. I can't believe you'd go to this length to win our wager."

"What was the wager?" Hermione can't help but to ask, and suddenly both wizards look very uncomfortable, almost like they'd momentarily forgotten she was there.

"Nothing, Granger. Most certainly not anything that concerns you."

"Well, that's not entirely true," Theo pipes up. "It sort of concerns her-"

An agitated Draco grits his teeth. "Shut. UP. Nott."

Hermione, finding Theo to be more forthcoming, gestures for him to continue, to which Malfoy responds with a low growl.

"Whoever wins, the loser has to convince a witch to Halloween as a couple next year. And of course, winner picks the witch."

"You're a complete tosser, Nott. No way are we continuing with me stuck like this." Malfoy gestures down at himself, hands stiff in agitation.

"Wait," Hermione jumps back in, "you said it 'sort of' concerns me." She eyes them with suspicion, one wizard to the other. "Why?"

Now Theo grins at her. "Because when I win, and I pretty much already have," he tosses as an aside to Draco, "you're the witch he gets to couple with next year."

She snorts at them both. "How completely Neanderthalic. You just, what? Assumed I'd agree? Ridiculous."

"And it's irrelevant," Malfoy gets back in the game, "because I'm going to win." He turns back her way. "Fix this. _Now_."

She lifts her nose with a sniff. "I don't appreciate your tone."

"Well, I didn't appreciate _you_ ogling my cock!"

Theo's eyes go a bit wider than before and Hermione blushes absolutely carmine red.

"It seems that's my cue to exit." The wizard is backing toward the door, giving Draco a wide berth. "Maybe take this as an opportunity to discuss next year. And don't worry too much, Draco. It will wear off."

"Wear off?! When?"

With that, Theo shrugs and strides away with a wink.

"That twatting cunt," Malfoy growls out, and then he goes very quiet. He looks nervous now and slightly more humble.

Hermione isn't quite sure what to think of that exchange.

"So…" she tries. "It seems it will be over shortly."

"Yeah, after I miss the sodding costume judging." It's mildly adorable how pouty he is, his arms crossed over his chest and his cheeks tinged pink.

"Maybe we can find a way to finish the transformation," she tries encouragingly.

"Have at it. Knowing that prick, he's made some convoluted nightmare even _you_ can't break."

That sounds dangerously close to a compliment, but she doesn't pursue it. Instead, she goes back to work, trying to dismantle whatever curse has stalled his transformation.

As she waves her wand, casting silent spells, she thinks to broach the subject of her curiosity. "Did you have a plan to convince me to dress up with you?"

He chuckles at her, his agitation seeming to have diminished once Theo was out of sight. "I had a plan to win the fucking contest."

"And Theo? What poor witch was to be his unsuspecting target?"

At that, he grins. She has to admit it's a little devastating, that smile of his. No wonder _Witch Weekly_ voted him Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelor three years running.

Not that she reads that sort of thing.

"Lavender Brown."

If she were consuming anything, she would choke on it. As is, she gulps in a little too much air. She's not sure if it's a gasp or a laugh. "Lavender?! Merlin... _Why_?"

"Little known fact," he studies his nails nonchalantly, "Theo has had it bad for that daft headed twit since eighth year."

"Oh my… that long?"

"All through the recently deceased relationship with your ex-weasel, in fact."

Ron and Lavender, as it turned out, had been as ill-fated as Ron and Hermione. School sweethearts had not been successful for her first love any more than it was for herself.

"So you were going to basically force him into asking her for a date?" she notes, slightly bemused.

Draco shrugs at that, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"And… he was going to make you ask me?"

At that, he doesn't even reply, and Hermione looks away, embarrassed and trying very hard not to be too flattered in case she has misunderstood.

"That being the case," he says suddenly, "it seems I might have to forfeit this year, and this is as good a time as any. How would you like to accompany me next year to Nott's party?"

Hermione considers it. Part of her, the untrusting part that is tricked year after year by her supposed friends, starts to wonder if this whole thing has been a set up. He had seemed so agitated, so angry at Theo when he entered. Suddenly he seems to have accepted his loss and using the opening to chat her up. She definitely needs more information, still not sure she isn't walking into a joke that's on her.

"What would we be?"

He seems confused and possible a bit anxious. "What do you mean?"

"Our costume, obviously. What clever couple costume did you have in mind?"

"Oh. Well… I-"

"Because if I'm going to agree with this, I'll not have you walking me in on a leash, dressed as a slutty cat or something equally demeaning."

"I'd never," he protests, seeming shocked. Whether that's put on, she isn't sure.

"And no slutty version of a devil," she throws out suddenly, pointer finger aimed in his general direction to punctuate. "Or nurse. Or _librarian_. Oh, I'm sure everyone would get a kick out of _that_. Granger the bookworm as the naughty librarian."

"None of that, Granger, I promise. But I did agree with Theo that he and I would have to choose the costumes for our date. Part of the punishment, you understand, having to come up with a clever duo next year."

"There is no way I will agree without some parameters on the costumes."

He shrugs. "That's fair. Give me some limitations and I promise, I'll fit within them."

"I prefer historical figures," she says.

He smiles and it seems genuine. "I find that not at all surprising. Done."

"And I like accuracy. Or at least as much as possible given the nature of historical accounts. I refuse to masquerade around as Amelia Earhart in some scant pilot's costume that looks like it came from a sex shop."

"Agreed. Whatever figure I choose, I will choose a look that is either accurate or recognizable as accurate."

Hermione is racking her brain, trying to find a way in which she is being had. It seems relatively safe. Besides, it's a year away. He might have forgotten about it entirely by then. As pranks go, he's certainly playing a long game if this was all a set-up.

"Alright. Whatever you decide, just be sure I have time to prepare my costume."

"I'm sorry to ask this… but I'm going to need a Vow, Granger."

"A Vow?"

"Part of the bet. Theo would have had to convince Lavender of the same."

Hermione's mouth thins into a line. She doesn't take Vows lightly. Having cast a nasty curse on a school mate herself, she knows this is a serious commitment.

"And if I break it?"

He smirks a little. "I thought Gryffindors always kept their word."

"We do," she says hotly, "but I'm also not stupid. What if you show up with some a pole and love beads and tell me I'm a historical stripper from 1965?"

With a grin, he comments, "I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it…"

She huffs, stomping her foot (much as he had stomped his hoof some time ago… funny the little things they have in common).

Placating, he throws up his hands, showing his palms. "I'll take a Vow in return. Historical figures only. Recognizable. And, just to make you feel better, I will relegate myself to figures from muggle history, at least two hundred years past. And the only result if you try to break the vow is you will not be able to remove the costume for the evening nor hide it with regular clothes."

That helps, she thinks. It takes away the Marilyn Monroes and other figures of recent history that might have made her uncomfortable. He really does seem to be trying. Which, she would suppose, makes sense, if the motivations hinted at are true. Could it be he is truly interested in pursuing her?

She offers a smile, suddenly feeling a little shy. "I suppose that would be fair. A vow for a vow, Malfoy."

"Draco?"

She hums, asking what he means.

"I just… maybe you could call me Draco? Since we have a date, that is. A year out though it might be."

Hermione laughs a little, finding him to be rather charming. "Draco, then. Seems a long time to wait for a date? Are you sure it will be worth it?"

He pretends to think. "Well, it does seem to make sense that we have at least one other date in the meantime. Just to… break the ice, as it were...?"

As it happens, it will be the first of many when she accepts his request. Obviously, he is in no shape for an evening out that night, centaur form and all, but they meet for coffee the next week. He swaggers in, all handsome confidence, and Hermione swoons a little. It's easy to disregard how attractive someone is when they are off limits. He was always the villain. Then, after that was sorted out and his redemption in place, he was simply a dick. Now she finds him engaging and witty, full of interesting stories, information, and philosophy. Harry has told her the last couple of years he seems like an "alright bloke". She'll have to remember to tell her friend that, for once, he might be right.

She spends Christmas on his arm at the Malfoy annual ball. They haven't spoken much, in the meantime, busy as she is with work, but it feels rather natural to stand beside him, welcoming guests. That's the night he admits having had feelings for her for some time.

Theo seems to take particular joy in rubbing his part in the entire affair in their faces. He snickers when he finds them, happening upon them snogging on the veranda. "You should thank me, if you think about it. He was hopeless when it came to you, Granger. I'll take it easy on you next year. The stakes won't be as high." He's so smarmy as he walks away, Hermione whispers that whatever Draco has planned for their costumes next year had better be fucking spectacular.

By Draco's birthday, they are firmly entrenched into a relationship, and she has all but forgotten about any silly bet. They see Theo often, and she has found a friend in him she never expected. He reminds her a bit of Harry, actually. The snakes and the lions are merging socially, until they are just a virtual chimera of friendship.

"Love, are you almost ready?"

"Just almost, Draco."

It's Halloween again, and Hermione has been instructed to charm her hair to be even more long and luxurious than usual. "Hair past your knees, Hermione, to create the historical style she wore," Draco had said.

He has refused to tell her as whom she will be masquerading, but at this point in their relationship, she trusts him implicitly. All she knows is that Theo and Lavender (yes, that seems to have happened anyway) have been incredibly smug about their costume, and she intends to rub their faces in whatever it is her very capable lover has planned. She can see how he was roped into that bet last year. Theo really can be irritating when he's being a pompous arse. The wager tonight is simply for a dinner out, but Hermione is going to take great pleasure in choosing to have Theo wine and dine them in muggle London. He's never been, and Hermione loves seeing the unflappable Theodore completely wrong footed.

When Draco emerges from their en suite, she's taken aback to notice he's in his horse form. He really is a gorgeous creature like this. She has, in the course of their relationship, learned he chose to become an animagus because an injury was keeping him from effectively playing Quidditch. He had hoped for a bird, that he might take to the skies again, but doesn't seem upset by his form. Running through the grass, powerful legs pounding the earth, he enjoys the freedom of it nonetheless.

Between his teeth, he's holding a book. If a horse can give you a look of bemused satisfaction, he is wearing one now.

Gingerly taking the book, she glances at the cover and her jaw drops. "Oh, fuck no."

But, she thinks later as they stride into Nott Manor, it really is pretty brilliant. He managed to stay within her strict parameters while still making quite the entrance. With her hair more voluminous than she thought possible wrapping around her body, she's trying very hard not to be completely mortified that her naked thighs are clinging to Draco while in public, only her unnatural hair keeping her modesty safe from the room. But you would never know by looking that she is remotely out of sorts. With her head held high, she is perched atop her boyfriend's back, one hand wrapped loosely in his mane.

Draco waltzes his cute little horse tookus up to Theo, who has not yet noticed their arrival, and snorts right into his ear.

"What the… Malfoy! What the fuck, the horse again?! Didn't you learn you…"

At that, he trails off, his eyes rising to Hermione who has one eyebrow arched in challenge. She is certain they make quite a picture: Draco the stallion, proud and tall, and Hermione with her hair wrapped around her body, cascading to hide her completely nude form. Theo and Lavender are a rather expected duo, the ever cliche priest with a slutty nun. Hermione expected nothing less (and certainly nothing more, she snickers in her own head).

With a laugh, Theo slaps Draco on his flank and struts away for a refill, chuckling behind him. "You crazy fucks… Lady goddamn Godiva. You win, you bastard."

And they do.

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 **Thanks so much for joining me! This is the first of 2 fests I signed on for this season. A 3-part story is coming soon! Would love to hear from you in a review!**


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